Tempore Fata
by FlightyMighty15
Summary: Arthur is a time-traveller who's job is to go save people from the past to make his present better... and he hasn't done a very good job with that. His newest task is to protect a young man by the name of Alfred F. Jones, who may not really be the one who needs saving... USUK, Crap summary but great story, Rated T, human names used! Side pairing Spamano, Prucan, GerIta, and more!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here's something new I decided to try for once. An idea I've had floating around in my head for a little while has resurfaced and will hopefully be good this time. **

** Basically, Arthur is a human from some indeterminate time in the future, and has to play an important role in trying to fix the future. There's a bunch of people from his time trying to do the same thing. They go back throughout time to stop untimely deaths of others that they have detected will influence their world in a positive way. And his next assignment, the others being complete failures, is to protect a young man by the name of Alfred F. Jones... who may not be the one who needs protecting after all...**

** I apologize if someone has already done this idea, and I swear that I come up with anything in this story will have been on my own. Any similarities, if any, will be complete coincidence. Read and review, and enjoy too! ~Flighty**

Water drips from the ceiling. The torches lighting the walls flicker in the drafty hall, and the paintings seem to be watching me. I have walked this path many times before, but every single time I still feel a rush of... fear? Yeah, it may be fear, but I'd never admit it to anyone but myself. I would never, never say that I'm terrified right now.

Not after my brother had always walked this way with his head held high. _He _received every task with pride. _He _accomplished all his jobs in a "flawless manner", according to my father. _He _was the one who my father always presented on a golden pedestal while I was seated on the rotting floorboards. Luckily my father isn't around anymore; he wasn't too good to us. Rather, to me. I was _always _the shadow.

I actually have two brothers. My younger brother is a half-sibling- different father, same mother. At least now mummy is happier. But since my two brothers live together somewhere else, my mom and stepfather have nothing to do with their time anymore. I'd say that I'm envious of all the spare time they have now, but I'm the type of person that needs to be doing something, _anything_, at all times. Boredom is something I can't handle.

As I turn the final corner of the passage, I quite literally walk into the door. The big chunk of wood smashes into my face, and a small amount of blood spills from my nose. Great. That's just what I needed right now.

"Get in here." A voice booms from behind the giant door, which looms almost six feet over my height. He must have heard me hit the door. Despite the command, I wait outside for a moment for my nose to stop. I begin to wonder what awaits me this time: could be good, most likely going to be bad. Either way, I won't be walking away from this door the same as I am now.

The nosebleed stops after a moment or two, and my sleeve is covered in the stuff. Wonderful. That was never going to come out of this sweater... and it had been a gift, too... I suppose staring at my arm wasn't exactly the best choice, because I may have just wasted ten seconds or ten minutes zoning out at the red splotch.

I can't hesitate any more. Sooner or later, I have to go and face my fate.

The fake golden doorknob feels cold under my hand but I have to turn it. The door creaks open like a high-pitched caterwaul. I've heard enough of those to know the way the sound pierces your eardrums and becomes your only reality for a while. The shuddering I've known in those times pass through me once again and I stop for yet another few seconds.

"You called, Sir?" I step very slowly into the room. The tension in the room is enough; you could probably slice it all up with a knife. I hear growling from the cages built into the walls of the dark corridor. Best case scenario, I'm about to be turned into one of the drooling, mindless human-hybrids inside those cramped spaces. Worst-case scenario, I'm about to be killed.

Before me, a large chair is facing the back wall. I know that when it spins around, my superior will glare at me like I just killed someone he loved. He has a grudge against me. I may never know the true reason why, but he does. My parents say it's most likely because I've somehow managed to fail every task he has given me in the few years I've been doing this, but I know it runs deeper. He has seen my future. He knows what will happen to me, and I'm guessing he enjoys the thought.

"Arthur." The Grandmaster (He ordered all of his subordinates to call him this, and refusal is a serious offense.) sighs and pushes his chair around. His hand is on his face and he's peering at me from between his fingers. "Do you have any idea _why _I've summoned you here?"

With a deep breath, I respond. "Because I've screwed up again, right?"

"Yes, you have screwed up yet again. Your last task was such an unbearable failure; I can't even comprehend _why _I have decided what I did."

My blood turns cold. _This is it. He's going to turn me into a bloodthirsty human hybrid. _

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "Okay, but can you just give me some time to say goodbye to-"

The Grandmaster lowers his hands and narrows his eyes at me. "Stop talking. I wasn't done speaking yet." With one more deep breath, he rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and lets his stare remain focused on the vaulted wooden ceilings. I look up there as well, hoping that he wouldn't be able to hear my unsteady, pounding heartbeat. "Yes, go say goodbye to everyone. I don't think you'll be seeing them again for a very long time."

I nod and turn around, hustling out of the room. The shadows in the hallways become the only thing I can see with the fear welling inside of my head.

When I think I hear a voice, I spin around and look down the hall. The Grandmaster is standing in front of his door and yelling at me. _Great, what did I do now?_

Slinking back over was a very hard thing to do. _What if he's going to take me away now, and not let me say goodbye to my mother and stepfather? _Anxiety flows through my body. There's no way that I am getting through the day as a normal person. Soon the news of my consequent failures will spread throughout the town. Maybe even the county, who knows? And my brothers will pay a few measly dollars to come visit the half-human, half-somethingelse thing that was once their brother. I'll be put into a zoo or something of the sorts and the people I grew up with look and shout the same old elementary-grade insults they called me during our school years. They'll-

"Yes, sir? Is something wrong?" Suddenly I'm before my superior, awaiting my official sentence.

The Grandmaster's red eyes are filled with an emotion I can't identify. Actually, they almost always have that same look about them. I usually interpret that feeling as anger or disgust. "I said: I can't believe I'm giving you one last chance. Pack your stuff; you're going to be leaving in an hour."

_I, I'm leaving? I get another chance? Really, I get one more chance? _

I am stunned. He said the last time that that was going to be my final opportunity to change something. A final attempt to make our world a little better. He has told me that he wouldn't even trust me with holding his coffee... But another chance, after the last time? Has he gone senile? "T-thank you, sir! I appreciate it. I won't let you down this time!"

He nods towards the other end of the hall; a clear indicator that I have been dismissed now. I turn to run home and grab a few things I'll need for my journey. Some clothes, some money, a thing or two to keep me occupied on my downtime... My mental checklist of items to grab has been refined over the years of doing this.

_I wonder what time I'll be visiting? _I ask myself the basic curious questions I often ask.

You see, I live in a present where everything is destroyed. One in a hundred buildings is safe to inhabit. Forests are things we have only seen in picture books that our ancestors have passed down. Oceans are no longer blue, but a deep gray, with the occasional toxic waste spill making some places glow a sickly green. One entire continent is barren of anything to sustain life. The sky is blotted out with smoke and ash from wildfires that had destroyed that region about three hundred years ago. No one alive has ever seen a blue sky, or the stars. The sun and moon are just legends now. No one has seen them, so why should they exist behind the curtains that block out everything except everlasting night?

There is no way to change this.

Or so we thought.

About a hundred or so years ago, some scholars had come up with a theory that had been widely supported by a good eighty percent of the remaining population on the planet. If we could go back and find out what caused our world to be like this, and find a way to prevent it, our world could be changed.

So, a few of them devised a rather... _odd _solution.

We send specially trained citizens back in time to protect those we think will influence our present in a positive way.

Let's say that we know that one person will create a cure for one of the diseases we suffer in our time, but that individual dies before they had the chance to develop it. If one of us were to go back and stop their death, that person would then live long enough to create the cure. Then we would have that cure to use in our time and increase our life expectancy.

That's exactly what my brother did. A woman was supposed to cure one of the worst terminal illnesses, but was going to get killed by getting hit by a speeding driver while attempting to cross the street nowhere near a crosswalk. My brother was sent back, and stood on the same side of the street as her and did what he does best. He flirted with her until the speeder went past. He saved her by being himself.

It sort of sickens me, especially since I've tried that and many other strategies without anything close to the same result.

The past residents we save don't have to invent disease cures. We have saved people that prevented wars, all kinds of people.

Yet, our world remains the same after about ninety years of trying.

Nowadays everyone is trained for this and is required to attempt to save at least three people from the past. You start at fifteen years old. My brother had saved eleven before retiring at age seventeen. Now he is twenty and is now stationed in the year 2013 as a place for anyone from our time to stop while travelling throughout time. Our twelve year-old half-brother is living there with him. I am eighteen now, and have had many attempts... with no success at saving anyone.

My house comes into view, and my feet carry me faster to meet my mother, who was waiting for me. She said she would wait for me to come home. She always does whenever I go to see the Grandmaster. My mother jumps up and runs towards me and meets me in the middle of the yard. "How did it go? Did you get one more chance?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

She looks over my shoulder down the street with her face gradually growing redder.

"Please don't be mad. I know you're an adult now, but..."

I tilt my head. "But what?"

"Well, I sort of went to talk to him. I told him how close you were last time. I managed to persuade him somehow..."

Of course she did. My mom, stepfather, and brother were all madly successful with all of their savings. It's no wonder that the Grandmaster listened to her. Plus she's older. He's only been the Grandmaster of our county for about fifteen years.

"I'm not trying to continue babying you, but it's a mother's job to protect her children. I'm sorry."

Amazed, I stare at her. "You persuaded him to give me another job, not let me get killed, and you're apologizing for being a mother?" I chuckle. It's a small one, but nonetheless a chuckle. That's something I definitely haven't done in a while.

"So, you're okay with that?"

"Of course! Thank you, mummy!" I yelled back as I ran up to my room and started ripping it apart looking for the clothes and other objects I'd need. By the time I was done, I had one hundred and fifty dollars, a suitcase full of clothes, an MP3 player (because travelling through time would transform it into whatever device of the same type is popular in that time.), and a notebook.

It appeared that a tornado had ripped through my living space...

As I ran back down the stairs, I fell down the last four stairs and my nose started bleeding again. I cried out with frustration while sitting at the bottom of the stairs pinching my nose with the sweater I was already wearing. When my mother saw me, she shook her head in disapproval and helped me stop the bleeding.

When I finally got out of the house, I was wearing an all-new outfit and carried a medium suitcase down the streets. I turned and took one last look at the house where I had grown up. All the things in the world that I loved were there. If I never returned, I could always have the memories of the long glances I took at the house. Slowly I returned my focus to the path ahead of me. What I had done in the past could all be changed with this task. I could be safe for the rest of my days if I succeeded in saving this person.

My shoes clicked in a steady rhythm against the cracked tar of the streets in the town. We don't have cars anymore, so the roads are more of an inconvenience than anything else now. If they were gone, we could use all this land to grow food and other crops.

_Alright, Arthur. This will be your last chance. Most likely, you are destined to not succeed. But I will do all in my power to save this one. Nothing is more important than this. If you fail, the punishments will be the worst this time..._

Instinctively, my feet carry me down to the building that is the Grandmaster's place. I don't know if he lives there or not, but the grandeur of the enormous structure certainly could suit his living space requirements easily even with the office taking up the entirety of the basement. In a couple of minutes, I would be learning the name of this person, what year they lived in, and who I'd be living with from my time period while in that year.

Yet again I walk down the dank corridor to the Grandmaster's office. I keep thinking about who I could be working with. I know a couple of people that have been living in other times. In fact, my old neighbors, the Vargas brothers, are currently working in the same town my brother is in. They live a couple of streets away. That has got to be rough for them. I know a few others all scattered throughout time, but we haven't heard from them in a long time.

Before me once again is the large door. On the other side, all of my questions will be answered. Who is this individual? How are they supposed to have died? When was it?

_Knock. Knock._

"Enter." The Grandmaster's quiet command can barely be heard through the big, monstrous door.

I fling the entrance open and walk in with a slight bounce in my step. I think it annoyed the superior a little bit, because he rolled his eyes at me again.

"Alright. Well I've decided where to send you." A small sneer places itself onto his face. "You are going to 2013. I bet you can guess who you are going to be living with."

_Oh, no. He isn't doing this. Please tell me he is putting me with the Vargas brothers. Please tell me he isn't putting me with them. No, nope. This is not happening. _

"You are going to be staying with your brothers. I'm sure they will be pleased to see you again."

_Yep. He did it. _

"But that is beside the point. You're not going to be there to see your brother; you'll be there to protect a boy a little younger than yourself." He leans back into his large chair and closes his eyes. "His name is Alfred. Alfred F. Jones. He lives in the same small American town as your brother, and goes to the school you will be attending. He is one grade below you. Seventeen years old." His voice grows more melancholy and he opens his eyes back up a little. "In about a year after you show up, he'll be too... _depressed_... to keep going on."

"He... _kills himself?_"

The Grandmaster nods and is visibly upset. Does he usually feel sad for the people we need to keep safe?

I'm momentarily frozen. This is the first time this has been a reason to go back in time. Well, a first time for me, anyways.

"How can I stop that?" Genuine wonder creeps into my voice.

"Just... try to be a good friend. Maybe you will be able to cheer him up." His eyes contain some emotion that I, as usual, can't decipher.

He looks up at me, switching back to his normal, indifferent appearance. "Now go. You can't be wasting any more time. And just so we understand each other, this will be the absolute last opportunity I give you. You know what will happen if you fail again."

_This time, he will kill me if I miss the mark. I won't be going hybrid, I'll be going to the grave. I want to live my life happily! I have to succeed! _

The Grandmaster stands up and starts to mutter something. The words are vaguely familiar every time I hear them, but I can never seem to remember them exactly. My mom said it's always slightly different words, depending on where you would be going. That way, people don't try to run away and flee to another time period.

As he speaks, the ground around me glows a creepy dark purple color. Swirls of translucent color dance in my vision, and threaten to take away my sight. The floor sways beneath my feet. _I'm about to be sick. _That's what I think, but I know that it isn't true. It's simply my body getting re-used to the feeling of time travel.

This is it.

My final chance.

My eyes start to droop shut. When I awaken, I'll be asleep somewhere near my brother's house, unharmed. A little disoriented, but fine.

Consciousness is slipping out of my grasp.

_Hey, Alfred. Don't worry, buddy. I'm coming, and I'll keep you alive. Because it will keep me alive as well. _

**A/N: Hooray, I finished it! **

**I'm going to try to make each chapter around 3000 words, so hopefully this story will keep all you who choose to read it occupied for a while. Expect at least ten chapters. I don't know. **

**Wellllp. I'm out. Have a nice wait-period. **

**Actually, I have more to say: the identities of Arthur's brothers will be revealed in the next chapter. Don't hit me for who they are. ;_; (Some aggressive shippers may be plotting my death as week if they guess correctly... but then again, this **_**is **_**a USUK story, not *insert-other-ship-here-that-will-give-away-onii-c han's-identity*...)**

**Okay, now I'm really done. Please review! ~Flighty **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Holy crap, guys! I posted this story and within 48 hours I had roughly 15 emails about follows, favorites, and reviews! Thanks so much, this is the most success I've had on here! *hugs tiny laptop* **

**Erm... Actually, finally we'll get to meet Arthur's big and little brothers! But we won't meet Alfred in this chapter. If you ship FrUk, don't flame meh. This story is written my way. Don't like, don't read and write your own. Simple. **

**And this would have been out so much earlier, but I lost the flashdrive that I store these files on, and Writer's Block hit me like a brick... and my Microsoft Word decided to start crashing after being open for 30 seconds. Every. Single. Time. When I post this, Chapter Three should be roughly halfway done. **

**Also, (Final paragraph, I swear!) I edited the plotline **_**A LOT**_** while looking for said flashdrive. The story now has more depth, slightly more focus on family than before, a new, more action-y (Is that even a word?) ending. More characters are going to show development in the process, and finally: A **_**minor **_**continuity error! I had originally intended the Grandmaster to be a descendent of Prussia (y'know, with those red eyes and such. Disregard that. He should have icy-blue eyes.), but I found a better character in order to give the plot a little kick. Okay, I'm done now. ~Flighty **

I stood in front of a house on a somewhat secluded street. It had tall, green and healthy trees all along the road and was lined with uniform houses. Most of them are duplexes. My brother lives in one of them... But which one is the real question.

I walk down the sidewalk in a daze. I had just woken up in someone's backyard and still felt a little dizzy from my trip. My legs felt like jelly and my brain was in the stars. I had twigs and leaves in my hair and clothes. With the grubby-looking suitcase and my current messy state, I must have looked homeless.

I guess I really did have that look about me, because a medium-height brunette guy was standing over me when I awoke. He had been poking at me with the handle of a rake for a few minutes before I got up. The guy seemed a little frightened at the aspect of some stranger sleeping in his yard without good reason... although I can't say I blame him. In my confused moments I got up and wandered off, through another person's yard.

That blonde guy came out of his home firing warning shots with a shotgun.

...There is no way that was legal. But then again, I've been in America before. Not this time period, but still! Screw the right to property and the right to bear arms, _that _was _terrifying! _

After about an hour of aimlessly wandering the streets of whatever town I was currently in, I finally managed to find the building that my brothers lived in. The two gray mailboxes out at the front of the driveway were placed in a patch of dirt, which was surrounded by some really beautiful red flowers. I stopped to smell the... roses. No pun intended. At least, I _think_ they were roses. They smelled fragrant and sweet. When I picked one off of the plant, I got a hand full of its thorns.

Yep, those were roses.

I wondered if my brother was the one that planted them, or the neighbor.

Honestly I hope that it was a neighbor. If my brother can keep plants alive that's another thing he can do better than me at. I've managed to kill every plant I've tried growing. However, our younger sibling can't even get a seed to sprout any time he's tried. That fact always made me feel a bit better.

I look over to the mailboxes again, just to be sure that I've gotten the right building. One box is labeled with stickers as "Carriedo", the other one has a sloppy white paint job spelling out two different names: "Bonnefoy" and "Kirkland".

Tentatively, I step onto the little stone path that leads across the lawn over to the door on the left side of the house. Their porch is separate from this "Carriedo" person's, but they are only apart by a mere four to five feet and some railings. My family's porch is covered in plant boxes and what looked like miniature versions of the flowers out near the mailboxes. The entire house was painted a navy blue with white shutters, and I had to admit it. It was a very nice-looking house.

I tiptoed up the three steps. My plan was to lightly knock on the door, and if no one answered within ten seconds, I was running. I really did _not _want to deal with my brothers while I was here. It's bad enough having to take care of a depressed kid that was probably contemplating killing himself right now, but now I have to put up with family. They have to be the worst kind of people to have to live with.

Jeez, I hope that Alfred would be easier to handle than these two.

I stood before the door for a good minute or two before knocking. Please don't answer. I can always go find the Vargas brothers and ask to stay with them. I had a hundred and fifty dollars, and for fifty they would let me settle in for a while. I could even cook for them! Once, they said that I cooked very well and ran home to tell their family.

Unless my brother paid them to say that and they ran out of the house in fear of another bite of my food...

…Well, there goes some of my self-esteem.

I took a deep breath_. Knock. _

Listening for any signs of movement, I waited. A few seconds passed and I knocked again, but just a little louder this time.

_Knock. Knock, knock. _

No answer.

"... They aren't here?" I asked myself. Relief flooded over me. Wow. The luck was with the Brit for once! I jumped off of the porch in a single bound and giddily made my way over towards the street. The grass added more of a spring to my step and I flew across the yard in a few steps. I wondered how soft the grass would have to be to fall asleep comfortably on a warm summer afternoon, because this lawn was clearly plush enough.

Then a car pulled up. Driving it was a very familiar blonde head that turned to see me before I could make a run for it. _Great. Just... great._

Without any way out of this situation, I stood there and glowered at my brother, who always seemed too arrogant to notice my hatred towards him. Okay, well maybe I don't _hate_ him, but severely dislike him. Might have been because I felt inferior towards him, but it was mostly his attitude that drove me nuts. He was always too cheerful and happy and egotistical. The way our father treated him must have been the biggest factor, though.

The git hopped out of his ugly blue car and ran at me. "Arthur, _Bonjour, mon frère!_"

_Crap, he's using that stupid French again. I thought he was over that crap by now! _

"Yeah, hello, Francis..." I nearly growled. "I got one last chance." The last time I had seen him and my younger brother was about six months ago, after my previous failure. They had come home to visit the rest of the family and learned of my possible death-sentence. Francis acted concerned, but I know that he didn't care, because it wouldn't have _possibly_ affected him.

Both physically and metaphorically, he loomed over me. He appeared all clueless and irritating and _was he growing a beard? _

"Ahh, I see. That would explain why you have come back to your big brother, non?" His accent was heavily present. Yeah, we have accents. Deal with it.

Well, the truth is, I used to have the same accent as my brother and father. When my mother and father separated, I was very young and learned to talk without it. I picked up the British accent, mentality, and surname from my mother and stepfather (She took his last name after they wed and he adopted me as his legal son.), who were both descended from the Brits. My brother used the accent that our father had always had. Coincidentally, the accent was French, Francis' second language which he had picked up in a few short years in this time period. How the French drawl has carried on for what must have been _centuries _relatively unchanged is a complete mystery to me.

"Still have your accent, I see."

"But of course! It helps me stay unique~"

"You say you're unique, I call you weird. Who even speaks that language around here?"

Francis stood up straighter and winked. "I tutor two or three kids in French. It's a class at the local high school, and I graduated that class with a ninety-nine average. Plus, it helps me talk to _les dames._"

That one took a minute to figure out, he'd told me the meaning of _les dames _before. "The ladies...?" Instant facepalm. "You really haven't changed at all, have you?"

"And why should I stop talking to the ladies? It helped me complete one of my jobs, if you care to be reminded."

"I have an idea, how about we _don't _talk about any of _your_ successes until after this job?"

Francis blinked a few times before sneering. "Oh, you mean, "after this job" as in "_after I fail again," _right?"

"Shut up! I'm going to finally save someone!"

"Arthur, what do you think the odds are of this one finally being the one time you don't get someone killed, frère?"

"I **will!**" I yelled, genuinely getting pissed. Why does he always need to play _that_ card?! I know I've never saved anyone, but this time, I will! My life also depends on keeping this kid safe! I have to-

I jumped forward and tried to slap the smirk off of his face, but my brother moved out of the way in time and I fell ungracefully to the plush grassy mat below. _Wow, it really is soft..._

My brother picked me up off the ground and tried to help me stand. "Hey, I don't need your help! I can stand on my own two feet."

"Oh, sure, you've certainly proved that!"

"S-shut up! I'm fine! You don't need to help me with anything! Maybe if you didn't always butt into my business, my last task would have actually been a success! But _you _ruined it!"

That threw away the last bit of self-control my brother seemed to have. "That was all you! I had nothing to do with it! But you...-" Francis shoved me back down to the ground. "Don't you dare blame me! I had _**absolutely**_ no fault! It was all yours!"

Before Francis could say another word, a small voice broke up the fight going between us. "Hey, s- sorry to interrupt, but I- I brought Peter home..."

My brother jumped a little bit and I turned to see a slightly familiar guy with shoulder-length brown hair standing in front of another car. This person had pulled up to the house a little while ago without us even noticing.

Oh, right. This was the guy who had been poking me with the rake as I woke up. He looked terrified of me at the time. And he had my little brother? What?

Sure enough, little Peter Kirkland jumped out of this gentleman's car and immediately spotted me in a manner like Francis had done. "Arthuuuuur! What're you doing here?"

Francis let go of me and headed over to the guy, waving. "Thanks, Toris. I got a little sidetracked. Next time I'll bring him home. As you can see, I have a visitor." He glared back at me. "A somewhat unwelcomed one, at the moment."

"Hey, Arthur is welcomed! It's my house, too!" Peter was talking to another kid in the back seat of Toris' car. "That's my other big brother. Isn't he cool?"

The other little kid, a boy who appeared at least a year older than my little brother regarded me with a nod. "Hey, Peter. I think he's the guy that Toris found passed out in my yard."

"Really? I didn't get to see the guy!" He whirled around and hollered back to me. "Hey, Arthur! Did you get attacked by Toris with a rake?"

The kid in the car rolled his eyes. "You aren't supposed to yell stuff like that unless you're sure of it! And I don't know if it was him!"

"Well, I'm certain that it was him." Toris remarked to the two kids. "See all the leaves and other things in his hair? And the ragged clothes? "

"Ah, yes. The wild Arthur is a majestic one, non?" Francis shook his head.

"…Shut up."

Suddenly, the little ankle-biter that is my younger brother was pulling my arm towards the house. Woah, the kid is getting strong. That or I'm just not strong at all. Possibly the latter.

"C'mon, brother! Let's go get you set up in the guest room!" He yelled. I guess he was excited at the aspect of seeing his brother again, especially since we all thought that I was going to be killed at some point in the past six months. When Francis and Peter had to come back to their home from the future, upon their departure Peter had cried almost as hard as he did as an infant. He had whined "No, Arthur! Come with us! They can't kill you if they can't find you! I don't want you to die! Please!"

Huh. I'd never really thought about it, but I guess the kid really does care about me. Unlike our brother, who I believe really only cares about himself.

Maybe he cares for Peter a little bit for allowing him to live here in this beautiful world instead of growing up in the death-ridden place that we all had called "home" at one point. To me, it's still home. But the odds of me never seeing it again makes a shudder run through me everytime it crosses my mind. They're too high.

Leaving Toris and the mystery-kid behind to go back to their home, we made our way into the house. Inside was slightly messier than the exterior implies. There were roses everywhere but the floors needed a good cleaning. The cushions on their beige couch were lumpy and lazily placed in their correct locations. The once-white walls had a desperate need for a new coat of paint, but other than those things (Which I _will _clean, because I am _not_ living in this filth. Except the walls, I'm not putting _that_ much effort into their house.) it was still nice.

Peter led me up the stairs. The upstairs was basically the better part of the house, so I'm assuming they didn't really spend too much time up here. "You're going to love it here! We always have friends over here and they are always loud and funny to hang out with."

"Like who?"

The young boy opens the door to the guest room. The living space is a pale yellow with a white dresser, a quilt on the twin-sized bed made up of patches of some of the most interesting fabrics I've ever seen, and a small flatscreen fixated on the wall across from the bed. A large window is in the middle of the wall opposite the door. I'm going to be staying in here, and I'm not at all disappointed. They certainly keep this room neat.

Peter flops onto the bed. "Here. Sit. It's a really comfortable bed."

When I take a seat on the matress, he's right.

"Well, once or twice a week the students that Francis tutors come over. The people next door have a son named Antonio, and he's one of Francis' best friends. He likes to visit."

"Next door? The people who's mailbox says "Carriedo", right?"

"Yeah! They have a garden out back with lots of tomato plants that Antonio takes care of. Francis' other best friend is named Gilbert, and he's really loud and fun. His brother is named Ludwig. He doesn't come over unless it's to drag his brother home."

"Well. They sound... interesting." For lack of a better word to use around a twelve year old. "Do you have any friends that come over?"

Peter sits up and bounces a little on the spot. "Well, there's Raivis, but he doesn't really come over here. I go over to their house. That's where I was today. He lives with his brothers Toris and Eduard. Feliciano likes to play videogames with me whenever he's here."

"Oh? The Vargas brothers visit?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Uh-huh. Lovino stays with Antonio the whole time they're here, though."

Francis stepped through the open door to the guest room. "So, Arthur. You're here for a reason. Who's the person?"

Peter's eyes widened and he rapidly looked from me to my brother. "Yeah, who is it?"

We both stared at our younger brother. Finally Francis broke the silence and pulled a thin, square-shaped box out of seemingly nowhere. "Oh, yeah. Here, I got you that game today. Why don't you go play it?"

The kid didn't need another second to think about it. He grabbed the game out of Francis' hands and took off down the hallway towards his room. "Thanks, Francis!"

My big brother took a seat. "Who is it?"

"Why? Do you think you would know who it is?" I rolled my eyes until they ached.

"Non, I do not think that at all. But I do know alot of the people in this town, so the name might just ring a bell for me."

"...Alright. Well the kid is a year below me-"

Francis closed his eyes and slowly nodded. "A junior. Okay, I know a few of them."

_Thanks for interrupting me, git. _"His name is Alfred."

My brother jumped up faster than comprehendable. "You're kidding! I know Alfred! Alfred F. Jones, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how does he need to be saved?"

"I guess I need to cheer him up. Why? Do you know anything?"

With an unneeded twirl, Francis replied with "Sorry, _frère, _but I cannot tell you anything. Just that you'll know him when you see him."

To prevent any more questions, my brother turned around and closed the door behind him. "Be ready for school before five-thirty. We need to go register you in classes before the day starts." He called through the closed door.

I turned to gaze out the window, and realized it was already dark out. How did the day end so quickly? Just a few moments ago I swear I was outside, having the "happy" family moment that everyone never wanted to see. The alarm clock on the white bedside table read 7: 35 PM. May as well set the alarm for tomorrow.

4:45 AM. Time set and going.

Well, I don't try going to bed until at least eight thirty when I need to get up early, so I pulled out my notebook and decided to read the past few entries. Maybe this time, I could read through the past without it coming back in another wave of pain.

Day XXX, Time XX:XX

We found the child, the son of the Grandmaster. I'll say he certainly looks like his father, with the blonde hair and cold blue eyes. He's a lively boy. Even the way he acts on his downtime is great. He writes letters to his sweetheart. He may only be two or three years younger than I am. The way he leads the group of people the same age or older than himself is remarkable.

The Grandmaster didn't have to send us through time for this one. This task is for the Grandmaster's own personal gain. Francis was asked to go protect this little one. The Grandmaster saw the future of his son and couldn't bear it. He send the brightest hero he could find, my brother: the son of his own best friend.

My brother pursuaded the Grandmaster to let me come along. Said I needed the experience. I don't need anything from him... but perhaps our sucess could count for me. After all, Francis is one of the best for the job.

I know that we can't let him down, nor the young boy. He has told me that he can't wait for all of this to be over. He wants to see his father again. He wants to see his girl again. All the letters he has gotten from her are in a box beside his cot. The boy spends hours of downtime pouring over what exactly to write back to her. My heart aches for them.

That just means if not for our gain, nor the gain of the Grandmaster, we must suceed either way. To get those two together again. I've never been in love, but I can see by the way he reads each letter over and over again each and every night before he sleeps that he loves her so much.

Francis and I have both seen this and we agree. Even if it kills us, we have to keep him safe. We personally just want to see these two little lovers united again. Either way, the Grandmaster has made it perfectly clear. If we fail, I will die. Francis will be punished, but I will be killed...

I throw the notebook to the other side of the room. I can't do it. I just can't read through it. How am I even still alive? Why didn't the Grandmaster carry out his promise? Those two kids would never see each other again, and the Grandmaster would never see his only son again. He had promised to kill me...

So why am I even here?

I pull the blankets over my head and curl into a ball. Sleep washes over me almost immediately and carries me off into a dream.

**A/N: Idea time! If you just can't wait and love spoilers, you can PM me! If it's minor enough I may give you an answer! If it's not, I probably won't! **

**By the way: Peter's new videogame is Pokèmon Platinum. Raivis just got him interested in the series and it was the cheapest one that Francis could find at the store. **

**Read and review, sorry for the rushed chapter. Also sorry for the feels in the notebook entry. I'm sure you can figure out who I'm referring to as the boy. *cries forever***

**Have another nice wait-period! ~FlightyMighty15**


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